


Hearth and Home

by OfTheDunedain



Category: One Piece, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Gen, Quirkless Reader (My Hero Academia), Reader-Insert, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheDunedain/pseuds/OfTheDunedain
Summary: In a world where heroes and villains were not just the subjects of comic books, you were a fluke.--A quirkless dud at the end of a line of strong quirk users, (Y/N) (L/N) is just trying to stay afloat in a world of people that seem to think she does not need to exist--including her own father. It's not all bad, of course; she has her friends from Twenty Percent, a meet-up and quasi support group for people born powerless like her, and the handful of friends she has made at Grand Line High since starting up as a freshman. Still, with a new villain attack seemingly rocking the local news every day, (Y/N) often feels like she is drifting through her city like a background character in a comic book--that is until she meets some of the fabled aspiring pros of the hero track, including the two Princes of Grand Line themselves: Ace and Sabo.However, elsewhere a dark web of villainous activity has begun to weave throughout the city, and as (Y/N)'s world begins to shift around her, she inadvertently finds herself ensnared by its threads.Will the warmth of the hearth she has found finally lead her to her home, or will she be powerless to fight against the rising troubles?
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: parental abuse, and mild cursing
> 
> Marked mature for those reasons. I do not own the concept of My Hero Academia, or the One Piece characters used in this story.

The news quietly droned on the TV, the shifting pictures that danced over the screen the only light seeping through the apartment and your way of keeping track of the time as you ghosted from place to place past the silver-limned furniture in effort to ready for school in the shabby, one-room studio you called home. The sun was rising outside and it was almost time to leave; you knew this because the halo of gold that leaked in from around the blinds had been strengthening enough that you had tiptoed to redraw the blackout curtains more tightly into place, and that had been before you had rummaged the cabinets for a meager breakfast. Now the weather update was ending—and they always gave that on the nines—so you knew it was almost time to go.

You narrowed your eyes against the dimness, raking your vision over the small kitchenette in appraisal. It was dingy and run-down as much of the complex was, but the counters and stovetop were clean. If something set him off today, at least it would not be that. You turned, passing back toward the portion of the apartment that was designated the 'living room', avoiding the parts of the floor that squeaked and protested to weight with familiar ease to reach and take your schoolbag in hand.

"This morning, yet another missing person has been reported in what appears to be a rash of directed criminal activity. Authorities say that forty-six year old Foxy Silvers, the retired professional boxer of no relation to the Dark King himself, was last seen leaving his recruitment office on Waters Seven in the business district—"

The anchor's words were cut off by the sound of a low growl from the blanketed lump lying on the fraying couch. "Shut that damn thing off. What're you trying to do, wake the whole complex?"

You jumped, a prickle like needles running down your spine as your breath hitched in your throat. You had been doing well this week—if you could just placate the issue and get to school without incident...

"Sorry, Papa," you mumbled, knowing already that it was useless to point out how the sound he had declared was blaring was hardly enough to fill the single room at all; instead, you hurried over to the coffee table before his couch to slam your thumb down on the remote and return the room to silence and darkness.

Still, his lumbering, broad form was already rising from those sunken cushions, and with each movement he made, the scent of stale alcohol wafted into the air. "Dammit, (Y/N)," he snapped. There was a hiss bred of pain in his words, though you could not rightly decipher if it was from the pounding of his head or if it were more of those phantom aches that never seemed to disappear. His large, meaty hand rubbed the nub of his thigh before ever moving to dote on his temple—so perhaps that was answer enough. "Don't you have school to get to?"

"I'm heading out now," you said calmly, forcing an oblique smile to your lips that did not add any spark to your eyes. "I've already prepped dinner. It's in the fridge. Just heat it in the microwave—"

"You think you're too good to cook for me tonight or something?"

"It's Thursday, Papa," you murmured. "I work until closing."

The growl your father offered in return was enough to rumble your nerves, and though your fingers twitched in anticipation, he did not outwardly snap. Perhaps even he, in this rare moment of sobriety, could not fault you for bringing in just enough money to pay for this hovel. The landlord was getting antsy what with rent due last week, and if your father had not found the stash of cash you had hid in your boot, it would have been taken care of already. As it was, you had until paycheck tomorrow to make up the difference—plus a late fee. You needed all the hours you could get.

"Ugh," your father groaned, finally pressing a hand to his head as the other snaked for a hold on his crutches. "Get going. I don't want to hear you." A soundless farewell was followed by quick, equally as quiet steps, and you turned, slung your backpack over your shoulder, and stepped outside.

The early morning was quiet, a fact that was unfairly biased in your mind because this part of Foosha Street pulsed with sound even late into the evening no matter the day of the week. Maybe that was why this was your favorite time of day even though you were not sure you could rightly call yourself a morning person; there were no shrieking neighbors, no blaring, low-budget television shows spilling through thin walls, no impatient, honking horns, or brawls anywhere to be heard. In fact, as you took to the stairs to make your way out for your own morning commute, the only thing you could really hear was the sound of engines humming over from the street as more productive citizens set out for work, and the faint chirping of birds that braved nesting in the only oak of the Grey Terminal Apartments.

The quiet steps you were used to making while in the confines of your home carried over to your gait now, though with every stride the weight that pressed against your chest seemed to lighten, and you found it easier to breathe. At least for a while, you would not have to see your father's limpid, livid eyes, or hear that growl that so often snaked from his scowling face. At least for a while, you could make strides forward—even if they were not the leaps and bounds others of the city could boast.

After all, in a world where heroes and villains were not just the subjects of comic books, you were a fluke.

People claimed in one breath that all people were created equal, but in the next gladly weighed the worth of a quirk's attributes against one another. There were goodquirks—ones that pro-heroes sported, and ones that launched troublemakers to the title of 'villain'just by their existence. And, of course, there were badquirks—those were the ones that society almost deemed useless, remarkable for entertainment only. Still, even having one of those was considered better than what you and a small handful of others had to admit to, which was having no quirk at all.

You could vaguely recall the stricken look on your father's face when he had learned his daughter was the dud at the end of a line of powerful quirk users; his jaw had gone slack, his eyes disbelieving. He had shouted at the doctor, forced you to see specialist after specialist, shoved you into therapies he hoped would awaken a sleeping power, though ultimately ended up disappointed that his efforts yielded no fruit.

In truth, your memory was hazy on the specifics. You had been small at the time, no older than five, and it had been such a whirlwind that the details had knotted together in a mess; after your diagnosis came the accident that took your mother's life and your father's leg, and somewhere within that dark, miserable twelve months, your father had started drinking.

And then he never really stopped.

You told yourself it was not so bad; you had a roof over your head, a menial job to help provide for both of your needs, and good grades—even if it brought disappointment that it was just in general education.

Sometimes you wondered if your father would have been happier if you had at least tried for the support track of Grand Line's curriculum, though those thoughts never lingered long. Even if he would have felt a modicum of pride that you had managed to make a name in a field that kept the heroes prepped and ready, you were quite certain you would not have thrived there; you were no inventor.

Your heart called you to other pursuits, ones that you had not even dared to breathe aloud in the confines of your own home.

It had been the people of Twenty Percent, a quirkless meet-up and support club for the city of Grand Line, that had helped you learn what it was to have dreams, to have desires, and to have friends. Friends that had encouraged you onward every step of the way since you had been introduced to them your final year of elementary. And it was also thanks to them that your walks to school no longer kept you alone to the point of loneliness.

Speaking of...

You grinned, seeing a familiar long nosed teen waiting at the crosswalk ahead. "Morning, Usopp. You got here early today," you remarked.

That drew his attention, and as he turned to look at you he smiled. "I had a stroke of genius last night!" If his face had not been glowing before, it was now, even despite the dark circles that pressed in under his eyes. The goggles he wore pushed back his hair, thick, curly and unkempt from what you guessed was a lack of proper routine the night previous, and you felt yourself smile a little.

"Oh yeah?"

"I'll have you know I singlehandedly stopped a bank robbery on my way home from the workshop yesterday," Usopp declared proudly, falling in step beside you as you continued on your way.

You laughed, shooting him a sideways glance. "You don't say," you hummed.

His face was upturned in pride, but hearing the disbelieving tone you offered in retort was enough to make him shrug a little. "All right, all right! I didn't. That pro, Boss Jimbe? He was there and helped a little. But! This villain had this crazy quirk, and if I hadn't had my magnetic gauntlets—well, who knows what could've happened!"

You never would have guessed the guy had gotten no sleep the night before based on the inflection and energy that pulsed through his story. His words weaved higher and grander with every stride you took toward Grand Line High, his excitement catching and bringing you to laugh even if you suspected much of the heroic tale was exaggerated. Still, it was part of Usopp's charm, you supposed; for being born quirkless, he had hardly let it slow him down, and he looked at life with an optimistic, romantic sheen that seemed to rub off on anyone who stood near him too long.

"Hope you're not giving away all your secrets in dark alleys," you finally managed to interject. Your eyes were bright as you cast a look to your friend, the large, fittingly grand building of your high school rising as a mountain at the end of the street. "The sports festival is coming up at the end of the quarter, right? I still think you stand a chance if they let you use those gadgets of yours."

"Of course I do!" Usopp declared, a goofy grin upon his face. "But rest assured, (Y/N)—I don't intend to give away all my secret weapons." He winked to you, and the confidence was both laughable and believable at once. You did not know a cleverer tinkerer than Usopp; if anyone from the freshman year support track was going to be noticed, it was him. "Oh, speaking of—I need to swing by class 1A this morning."

"Wait. The hero class?" You quipped in question, brow lifting. The handful of students that were selected to join those ranks were essentially campus celebrities. You had hardly looked at them, let alone ever thought about speaking to them. You were not sure if it was shame or awe that led you to seemingly avoid all contact with them, but in the weeks school had been in, you had zero direct dealings with any of the hero hopefuls.

Usopp heard your surprise, though that was no shock to you. You had, after all, known him for years and deemed him your closest friend. "I told you I went to middle school with one of them! He owes me a favor, so I want him to drop by the workshop after school to test my new gizmo. We can swing by on the way to our lockers."

You? Go with him? To the heroes' classroom? "But—" You started to protest, but your friend was not hearing any of it. His pace increased, excitement suddenly making his stride closer to skips than steps, and his boyish, pleased grin was enough to slowly return a smile of your own. Fine, you decided as you moved to match your gait to his. After all, they were training to be heroes, right? How frightening could they be?


	2. Chapter 2

It was not until the hallways were completely different than those you traipsed on an almost daily basis that it sank in just how obnoxiously large your campus was. Granted, if you were going to have a state-of-the-art hero training course, an award-winning support track, and still offer enrollment to students of more mundane interests, it was a necessity to have space.

Grand Line High was one of the largest schools in the city, second only to a haughty, nepotistic establishment that was famed for its snobby rich students. Still, Mariejois Academy was a few hours outside of the city proper and hardly wanted to be considered part of the common rabble of the coastal metropolis—so much so that sometimes people debated whether it should even count for that first-place spot.

Their curriculum was a mystery to the outside world, though none could debate its merit. After all, some of the top heroes came from Mariejois' rival hero track, and when their seniors took the field to compete against Grand Line High's in the Senior Sports Festival, the city—no, the whole country, really—shut down to watch the debut of the next wave of heroes.

And now you were walking the same halls that those miraculous students did. Maybe it should not have felt magical, but you held your breath as if it very well was. Before the pulse you could hear echoing in your ear clamored any louder, you flicked your eyes to Usopp. "What do you need your friend to test, exactly?"

"Aha! Glad you asked," Usopp preened, puffing his chest as proudly as a peacock, though with all the grace of a turkey. "You remember that big-shot villain, Eneru, right?" You had, which was well enough because Usopp did not really seem inclined to listen for an actual answer. Though, realistically there was probably nobody around that had not heard of that psycho. "I got to thinking that if he was going to attack me, it'd be nice to have a handy way to survive all that lightning he throws around."

It was true that Eneru had caused more than a handful of disaster-level problems over the past few months with that lightning quirk of his; in fact, before the rash of kidnappings, he had been the biggest talk on the news for criminal activity. All the biggest names in hero-ing were hired to stop the pale guy running around claiming to be a god, and that meant Newgate Agency, Fist HQ, Silvers Office, and the Donquixote Bureau were just someof the names combing the streets for him. It must have been working as a deterrent at least, because it had been weeks since any news of a mass lightning attack had been reported.

Though, deterrent was not the only idea floating through Grand Line.

"Isn't there a rumor that he was caught?" You inquired. It had been all over the internet and the buzz around school, too. No agency was taking proper credit for it though, so while many believed the maniac had been apprehended, others were more inclined to believe he was lying low. Honestly, you had never thought the guy was mentally stable enough to be able to resist flaunting his ego and powerful quirk, and you had never heard of anyone escaping such a dangerous net as was made by those top agencies, so the theories that he was in custody seemed to make the most sense.

Usopp, though...

"You think the worst villain this city has seen this year was captured and that news wasn't broadcasted on every channel? As if! The hero that took him in would've gotten this year's One Piece award, for sure," he countered, as if on cue.

"I mean, yeah," you admitted with a small shrug. Still, the thought of someone being that good at evading the city's best heroes? It nearly made your skin crawl. "But you think that guy can evade Whitebeard, Admiral Fist, the Dark King, and the Heavenly Demon's networks this long?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way, (Y/N)," Usopp explained to you, closing his eyes as if such advice carried all the wisdom of a sage. Luckily for you and your anxiety-constricting lungs, this particular sage soon stumbled over a foot in the hallway, and his sagacious, serious moment was slipped through his fingers before he had much of a chance to flower it to begin with. He, and his thread of conversation, promptly returned to the same Usopp you had known for years.

Trying to ignore the whisper of concern that prickled the back of your thoughts, you forced a small, wry smile to your lips. Maybe you should not talk about Eneru anymore. "Anyway, you came up with something, then?"

"Or my name isn't Usopp Snipes!" That exclamation seemed to right the air between you, and your breath eased a bit in your chest. "I'm calling it the ConducTact! It's a cuff that acts like a lightning rod and siphons off electricity!" Usopp's large grin spread wider, and his dark eyes sparkled like onyx gems. "And, because I never waste anything, it comes with a USB plug-in for phone charging. Or, well, that's the goal. Once Luffy tests it, I'll know if it works well or not."

You were not sure what, precisely, you had been expecting from your friend when he had brought up Eneru, though a phone-charging bracelet had not been overly high on the list. Still, glazing over how specific Usopp's invention seemed, your shoulders pinched as a tingle of surprise marched through your limbs. "Did you say Luffy?" You hissed.

The whole school was in a buzz about him; apparently, he had breezed through the entrance exam—or at least the physical portion—and was really making a name for himself amongst the new hero applicants. Though, you had heard he was related to the two princes of Grand Line High—Ace and Sabo, both seniors and the absolute top of the hero track—so maybe greatness ran in his blood.

"Yeah," Usopp answered, flicking his eyes to you with a small pout. That, clearly, was not the part of the story he thought you should have found the most interesting. "His quirk'll make it easy to see if the—oh. Here we are."

The first bell had not rung yet, so there were enough students swarming the halls to make you feel like a salmon as you fought through the tides to reach the door to 1A. You eyed the open threshold, suddenly feeling a weight like iron about your ankles as you pictured the faces inside. Whatever reservation you had, though, your friend did not share, and before you had a proper chance to decide whether you wished to instead offer to wait for him out in the hall, Usopp had nearly dragged you inside after him.

"You sure your quirk isn't getting lost, Mosshead?" A voice inside was scoffing. "We've been in the same class all year." A laugh that sounded like a joyous hiss was sounding from within as well, but a deeper, more guttural sound was snarling back to whomever had spoken.

"Shut up, you damn cook! Guarantee when Mihawk gives us our placements from the assessment last week I'll have beaten you, so maybe you should swap to gen-ed and train for that restaurant instead."

You stood at the doorway, breath burning your lungs as you glanced over the faces of the freshman hero track. It seemed involuntary that your fingers tightened around the books you were carrying, the stiffness that started in your lungs spreading through your spine. A student with blond hair and a slim, though masculine build was about to snap some kind of response—perhaps he was the 'damn cook' you had just heard about—when lips far closer to you spoke up instead."Hey, Luffy—got a minute?" Usopp called from beside you.

One of the smaller-built boys in the class, one with a golden straw hat crowning his head, was the student who turned toward the door first, that laughter you had heard as you approached trickling through a wide, toothy grin as his head swiveled your direction. "Oi! Usopp!" He jumped from his seat in greeting and crossed, steps light.

And he was not the only one.

You half wondered if Usopp was carrying his ConducTact on him right at that moment, because the way that blond scrambled up and over toward the door was almost like lightning to a rod. "A new student!" He exclaimed; he slipped right around Luffy and reached for your hand. "I'm Sanji. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to our class! Fret not, mademoiselle—this may all be new and frightening, but I will be right there beside you to assist."

His hand was warm, and you felt a prickle of unease and embarrassment at his proximity and forward behavior. One of your feet shuffled back, though it was not quite enough for you to manage an escape. "Sorry, I'm not—" You started, though before you had breathed more than those words, another, green-haired student had given Sanji enough of a shove that the blond was forced to essentially retreat.

"They're support students, eyebrows," the green haired student grunted. He looked to you, his eyes somewhat fierce despite the way he had, effectively, come to your rescue. The timid flicker on your lips did not seem to register as a smile for him; that, or he did not care if you were trying to be friendly.

Sanji was red in the face, though, glaring at the broader-shouldered boy with blazing suns for eyes. "Get off, Zoro. I saw her first, and if this angel of the support track wants to—"

"Oi, shut up," Zoro scowled. "If Mihawk finds out you were a perv—again—I'll fail the partnership exam this week by default when your dumb ass is unable to compete!"

Whatever sparks Sanji had thought were flying when he spied you in the doorway had turned to missiles, and the argument that was building seemed enough to warrant concern. "Aw, don't worry about them," Luffy offered brightly, grinning to you as if he had very well read your mind. Though, perhaps it was more right to say that the gape of horror on your expression had made it so clear, anyone would have been privy to you thoughts. "They're always like that!" He laughed. "So who're you? You Usopp's girlfriend or something?"

"Clubmate," you answered hurriedly, trying to keep your eyes from drifting to stare at the scimitar shaped scar under the lanky figure's left eye. Momentarily, your thoughts flit to the question of where someone who was strong enough to be in the Grand Line hero track managed to pick up such a souvenir, though you knew it was none of your business. Hero course students really were something else. Shaking the thought from yourself like drops of water, you straightened your shoulders. "My name's (Y/N)."

"I'm Luffy. Hey, if you're a friend of Usopp's, wanna join my hero agency? I'm gonna have the best one in the world!" His laugh grew into a crescendo of sniggers as his arms flung open wide.

"U-um," you stammered, mind whirring so quickly that your words tripped in your throat. Hearing 'you', 'join', and 'hero agency' all strung together was not something you had even dreamed about hearing; well, not since pre-school, anyway.

"Oi, Straw Hat," a deep, almost cold voice interjected, and immediately you felt a jolt through your skin. You were unsure how you had not noticed this guy approach; he was tall, slim, with shaggy dark hair and bright grey eyes that seemed as accustomed to reading people as they were to reading books. The frown on his face hanged casually, as if his lips hardly ever found a different expression. "You can't just recruit people to an agency that doesn't exist yet. You don't even know if she'd be useful."

His hawkish, calculating eyes slid to you next, and you felt your mouth grow dry as though suddenly stuffed full of cotton. Luffy, though, did not seem to mind; that toothy grin did not waver from his kind face. "Why not? Zoro and Sanji signed on. You, too!"

That had made the steely, lithe man stiffen, and the flood of horror that cascaded over his angled features was enough to make him seem somehow less frightening. "I did not!" He countered, as if the words could not leap from his lips fast enough.

"Forget it, Law," a different, sneering voice slid into the conversation. Your eyes flicked over this 'Law's' shoulder, spying a broad-chested redhead with an unsettling, icy grin looking your direction, feet propped up on the desk before him. The hairs on the back of your neck and arms stood up as if in response to his presence, and beside you Usopp, too, grew taut-faced. "You can't reason with an idiot. Not sure why you'd care, though. Let him recruit those useless Supports. Doubt they're anything good."

The way he eyed you felt appraising, the weight and feeling of dejection it left in its wake an altogether too familiar feeling. That darkness you normally could keep at bay while safely beyond the walls of your ratty apartment, the one that brought winter into your chest, began to seep free once more; there was no other way to explain its appearance other than it was like you could see your father's eyes in someone else's face. Lips twisting into a small grimace, you dropped your attention away, looking at the tips of your shoes instead. You could feel Law studying you; the electric buzz it sent down your spine was mildly frightening.

"I'll have you know I'm the number one in the track! Master of the Workshop! Just wait," Usopp challenged, his voice carrying rather well for the wobble you could note in his knees. "One day you'll beg for hardware from the great Usopp Snipes!"

The redhead snorted a derisive laugh, gaze finally peeling away from you, unable to get the rise he had clearly been fishing for. You clung to silence; you were not, of course, a member of the support track yourself and therefore had no intention of speaking out in your defense at all, though you felt a heat in your gut kindled from shame at the mere thought of admitting such a thing there in front of those worthy of enrollment in class 1A.

"Sure. If you're any good, you'll be able to beat some of us out at the Sports Festival, right?" The redhead's smile was toothy, something that looked more wolfish than human.

A shiver quaked through Usopp's limbs for a fraction of a moment, though the teen lifted his long nose upward with a sniff. "Piece of cake," he declared. "My next wave of inventions will be the best ones yet! Speaking of, I've got a new one I want you to help me test, Luffy." For being so averse to all conflict, you found it ceaselessly surprising how often your friend's tongue worked faster than his brain and landed him smack dab in the middle of it. "Well, we don't want to be late—do we, (Y/N)?"

Usopp's eyes were now on you, and the slight pallid sheen to his complexion made it clear he was casting that question like a lifesaver for himself. "Yeah," you mumbled.

"Don't forget to stop by the workshop after school, Luffy," the curly-haired teen sniffed once more, reaching to grip your upper arm with a hold that was almost iron-tight.

Luffy laughed, already waving a farewell. "Can't wait! See ya!"

With a whirl, Usopp turned upon his heel and set off down the hall with you in tow, and it left you near jogging to keep up with his pace as Sanji's voice of wailing lamentation about losing an angel filtered after you.


	3. Chapter 3

When you were clear of the hero course's hallways, the two of you made your way to your lockers, and after unloading a few of the books you were carrying, Usopp bid you farewell and scampered off toward the workshop, saying something about needing to get final permission from Mr. Flam for the afternoon's little experiment, and you turned to make way to your first class yourself. Eyes downcast, steps pointed and eager to put some distance between yourself and 1A, it took very little time before you were settled in your back corner, awaiting the start of your history period.

School seemed to crawl by.

It was not that you were purposefully distracted from the curriculum, though it seemed each class' lectures flit airily through your ears. In truth, your mind was a whirlwind of scrambled murmurs, and in between jotting down notes on subjects from history to geometry, you felt as if you could see the flashes of disdainful eyes looking at you, and sometimes instead of your teachers' voices you heard your father's slurred and graveled tone.

You had hoped that after lunch with Usopp in the courtyard your heart would ease away from troubles and return to that blessed escapism academia usually carried for you, but it seemed it was no such luck. All it had taken was a glimpse of that redhead from the hero class sauntering by on the outskirts of the courtyard with his posse of friends for your mind to cloud over anew, too preoccupied to even participate in the conversation Usopp and Kaya were trying to share with you about—well, you did not know what the topic was.

"(Y/N)? Hello, earth to (Y/N)!"

A gasp, and suddenly you were blinking away the haze that had been pressing in upon your mind all morning, and your eyes shifted back to the two at your side hurriedly, an embarrassed heat flaring in your chest. "Sorry, sorry!" You pressed hurriedly, waving your hands in supplication as Usopp leaned in closer, his eyebrows knitting together in study. It was not just his attention you had, either.

"You all right?" A delicate voice inquired, Kaya's warm and gentle expression of concern was almost a direct contrast to the pale, wintry complexion she sported. You felt guilt creep up to slither and hang around your neck, and it staved off a bit of your airflow like a constrictor. It somehow seemed worse when you were the cause of Kaya's concern; her health was frail enough as it was without her anxiety bothering her about you, too.

"Fine," you lied, forcing a smile to your face that you hoped was passable at least, but just a look at the pale, fair-haired girl said that an aspiring doctor's mind was not so easily fooled.

"Ah, I know what this is," Usopp finally declared, righting himself once more and nodding to himself.

"Y-you do?" You asked, feeling the muscles down your back tighten and make you stiff.

"C'mon, (Y/N). Nothing is gonna slip by me! But really, you shouldn't even be worrying about this at all," your friend declared matter-of-factly.

Your breath stilled, the paralysis that had begun to overtake the ligaments along your back now spreading to your lungs. Usopp gave you a knowing look, a hand reaching to press against your shoulder in encouragement.

"You don't have to worry about the Sports Festival so much, you know," he finished. "You're not trying to get into the hero magnet, right? So all you really have to do is show up and it's a win!" His brown eyes settled on you as he tilted his lips upward in a small, comforting grin.

Behind that expression, though, you could make out a small, flickering shadow of something that made your heart clench: pity.

He knew. He knew he was lying, he knew you were plagued by worries deeper and darker than that. Usopp knew, but he also was aware that you had spent years trying to keep the life you led beyond school and beyond work a secret, how you preferred to bear your burdens in quiet.

But, truly, you were not be surprised. For all his bluster, for all his bravado, Usopp had always been keenly observant.

"You know, if you're scared of competing," Kaya hummed, her voice almost songlike as she smiled to you. "You could always get your dad to sign the non-compete waiver and volunteer to help in the clinic with me instead!"

The absurdity that there was a school sanctioned event that needed volunteers for the clinic was not entirely missed by you, but what sent the small, silent gasp raking over your lips had nothing to do with that. Off to the side, you could feel the way Usopp's shoulders snapped tighter at the mention of your father as well.

"Don't tell her that," the black-haired teen laughed, the sound ringing false in your ears as he waved his hand in dismissal. "I don't wanna have to compete alone!"

Kaya laughed as well, the sound quiet, though no less delicate than wind chimes. "You could get it signed too, Usopp!"

"Not after this morning," Usopp admitted, the joviality dropping from his tone as his shoulders slumped forward. "That Eustass Kid guy practically called me out on a challenge," his words were glum and sunken, and it very much matched the defeated, hollow look in his eyes. "Uh, besides!" He snapped his eyes up and over to you, a glimmer of brightness returning. "It's not like the school's gonna let you die, right? Think of how much money they'd lose in a lawsuit! So no worries, right, (Y/N)?"

"Thanks, Usopp," you snorted faintly, shaking your head as your lips sought out a new smile. "I feel better already."

A baleful gust of wind swept through the courtyard, and the golden sun that had been hanging above your heads throughout your conversation so far seemed to be snuffed out all at once. The three of you lifted your eyes, spying the dark nimbus that had sailed its way in from over the water. It was monstrous; in fact, the whole sky suddenly seemed grey. "That doesn't look good," Usopp declared. "C'mon, let's get inside." Around you, you could hear the sounds of other students following a similar idea, and you reached to gather up your things.

You were not looking forward to the walk to work after school.

Still, you relocated just in time, the deluge beginning almost the second your foot touched down in the cafeteria, a sound like a thousand pounding fists echoing off the roof to underscore the deep rumble of thunder. Eventually, despite your overall lack of appetite, you managed to coax yourself into finishing the lunch you had brought before the bell rang and signaled a parting between you. Usopp made his way back toward the workshop trilling excitedly that he would see you both later, and you and Kaya set off for Literature together, idly passing conversations about the books you had chosen for your reports.

Maybe it had been the way Usopp had dragged you from your own thoughts during lunch, but you felt somehow more focused for the latter half of the day, and as the bells rang in sequence, pushing you from one class to the next, you journeyed with a quieter spirit than the morning had offered.

At last you were finally in your last class.

The second hand on the clock over the door was ticking away against the passing of time, moving nearer and nearer the final bell of the day. Another peal of thunder rumbled outside causing the glass of the windows to tremble, and the silver rain coated the world beyond the lab in a haze like a fog. Your teacher was still talking, waxing eloquent on the uses and origins of taxonomy, but most of the class had checked out, the sound of zippers relaying just how many students were packing up instead of writing.

"Believe it or not, taxonomy is not just something I made up so I can pop quiz you on it tomorrow," the teacher announced pointedly, a few groans peppering through the antsy freshmen before him. "Take a read through the chapter tonight and—" The bell rang, the sound like the starting gun for some kind of race with how fast the students around you shot to their feet. "Stay dry out there!"

Staying dry was not a bad idea. Maybe if you stopped by the workshop you could kill some time with Usopp before the experiment before you needed to be on your way to make it to work. A part of you figured a storm that had held its fury all day would not let up with the additional thirty minutes or so that you could spare, but the rest of you was still not too keen on running out into it early, and was maybe naively hopeful the storm would at least lighten. At least you kept an umbrella in your locker for these kinds of days. Though, with the way it was coming down, there was no way you were going to end up at work actually dry. With a sigh on your lips and that thought echoing inside your mind, you scooped up your things and made your way out into the hall after your classmates.

The drone of voices inquiring about homework, plans for the upcoming weekend, and whatever television show was sweeping through pop culture buzzed around you like a swarm of bees, though you spoke to none yourself. Instead, you weaved through the crowds until you found yourself standing at the mouth of the hall reserved for the support track workshops. Slowly the conversations shifted, and the lighter talk of hobbies and free time morphed into peppered questions about the best materials to use for a brand new idea, or gushed compliments for an ingenious twist on the last invention they tried.

Honestly, the hero class was impressive, but sometimes you imagined that the students that were part of support were even more so. Being born with a useful quirk, learning how to manage it, and training your body were undoubtedly tough to accomplish, but having a mind adaptive enough to start reaching into the realm of the unknown to create new things while still in high school? That was just as amazing to you. You could not stop yourself from eyeing the display cases that lined the walls, spying the familiar contraptions within with the same awe you seemed to hold every time you passed, only pulling your eyes away when you could hear a familiar voice ahead.

"Have you thought about taking it a step further, bro?" The voice filtered down the hall to meet you on your way, that bold, excited tone instantly drawing to mind that blue haired, broad shouldered man before you even turned the corner. Sure enough, Mr. Flam was standing before the open doors of the workshop, his loud, red Hawaiian shirt a stark brush of color against the otherwise drab hues of the architecture around him. "Now don't get me wrong, that USB ain't terrible, but if it had a retractable wire too, you could double the soaked energy for all sorts of boosts! Phone charging, backup generator, maybe even some of your other tech."

"That isn't a bad idea," another familiar voice hummed thoughtfully from beside him. Usopp's eyes caught sight of your approach, and his pensive, furrowed brow immediately lightened. "(Y/N)! Hey!"

You waved in greeting, the blue-haired teacher turning your way with an exuberant 'ow!' as a sounding accompaniment. "Long time no see, sister! You doing good?" Mr. Flam greeted, peering down over his sunglasses. Honestly, you were not sure if he wore them because of the protection they provided his eyes while he worked on things or because of the aesthetic. By your understanding, The Iron Borg, Cutty "Franky" Flam, had been a rather extravagant pro before he took a quasi retirement to teach, so you imagined it could easily go either way.

You had been somewhat awestruck when you first made his acquaintance. It was, after all, not often that someone from the gen-ed track crossed paths with big-named pros. Now, though, you had grown somewhat used to the bright, over the top personality Mr. Flam sported, and you found yourself easily smiling to him in return. "Sure am," you offered, not caring if it were entirely truthful. "You?"

Mr. Flam grinned, shooting you a thumbs-up. "Doing good, thanks for asking! You here to kill some time? I'd invite you in, but Usopp and I're 'bout ready to run an experiment, and you know the rules of the shop!"

"'Experi-can't come in'?" You half-laughed.

The teacher grinned, that ostentatious flash of pearly whites fitting in perfectly against his visage. "That's the one!"

There were occasions that the support track opened up its hallowed halls—things like back to school nights, alongside various festivals and student showcases. During those times, the doors were wide open, and anyone, regardless of enrollment, was welcome to peruse the work of the students who were hoping to make this their life craft. However, day to day, the workshop was off limits to anyone who was not a member of either the hero or support tracks, and it had to do with the Grand Line Liability Waiver. Not that you had heard of any serious injuries to students from failed attempts at crafting, but learning always came with mistakes, and it was not hard to imagine that those mistakes might be dangerous given what the students were attempting to do.

"No worries, Mr. Flam. I was just hoping to pass some time to see if the rain would settle a bit before I had to leave for work," you peered around the teacher's shoulder, though, eyeing the workshop beyond with a sudden hint of nervousness. "Is...Luffy already here?" If he was, maybe you were not going to be able to hang around; they would need to get started, and without a waiver...

"Not yet," Usopp remarked. "I think the hero students were in the gym today, so he's got a bit of a walk."

"Then, mind if I hang around until—?"

"Oi! Usopp!"

The three of you turned, spying a lithe figure at the end of the hall, arms waving excitedly overhead as laughter danced through the air and toward your ears. You blinked, reconciling the hero student's appearance after just hearing that he would have a long way to go, and beside you Usopp stepped up, dropping his voice low in a murmur. "Don't tell me he flew here," you thought you heard him say.

Was that his quirk? Flight?

Well, maybe that made sense, you decided. It was, after all, a fact that lightning was more likely to strike tall or high objects—towers, rods, trees in fields. If there was a type of hero who would want to avoid that kind of interference, maybe it was someone who could take to the air, and that in turn could make Luffy a perfect candidate for trying out Usopp's newest tech.

"Ow! There's the man of the hour! Welcome to the shop, bro!" Mr. Flam greeted exuberantly.

"Hey, Mr. Borg-man! Oh, hey! It's Usopp's friend!" Luffy's eyes fell to you. "You here to help out too?"

"Ah, no," you admitted, a nervous laugh filtering free of your lungs. "Just killing some time." You began to ponder if now was the right time to head off to your locker and gather your things, maybe seek out the library to spend the rest of the time you had left there. Though, maybe not. You loved books, but your evening was going to be completely full of them already.

"So what'm I testing, huh?" Luffy asked.

"I'm calling it the ConducTact!" Usopp preened in answer, crossing his arms and lifting his nose in pride. "I'll walk you through the specifics inside, but essentially you just have to wear it, and we're gonna throw some high-voltage electric strikes at you. Nothing to worry about! For you, anyway."

That speech would not have left you with an overabundance of confidence, but it seemed Luffy was unaffected by any worry at all. "I just gotta wear it? Can do!"

"And don't worry, kid. It's super safe! Took a look at the bad boy earlier. Usopp's a damn good tinkerer, if I do say so myself!" The shop instructor declared with what you would only describe as gusto. Maybe he thought Luffy should have showed a hint of hesitation as well.

You marveled for a moment before reminding yourself that hero students had to be brave; it practically came with the territory. "He sure is! Let's go!" Luffy exclaimed chipperly, stepping in through the workshop's door.

Well, that your cue. "I'll catch you later, Usopp. Good luck with your test," you offered with a small wave. You had to admit there was curiosity gnawing at you, but you supposed you could text the long-nosed teen after work to see how the results went. And, even if you did not, he was surely going to let you know tomorrow morning.

"Sure! See you, (Y/N)!" Usopp grinned to you, and he alongside the Iron Borg himself turned and followed the lanky hero student inside, leaving you to make your way back down the hall.

Those twenty minutes you had to spare sped by, and you found yourself eyeing the rain outside with a disappointed sigh sooner than you would have liked given the weather, your umbrella clutched in your hand. Even with the umbrella's protection, however, you doubted you were going to be dry or presentable when you arrived at work; perhaps there was consolation in the fact that the rain would likely keep any customers home as well. You opened the door to the school parking lot, stepping out to stand beneath the awning to ready your shield against the rain.

"Hey! Usopp's friend again!" A familiar voice lofted from behind. You turned, seeing Luffy's smiling face approaching.

"Oh! Luffy," you blubbered, blinking as if ensuring that you were seeing correctly. You had been keeping track of the clock so you knew you had not suddenly found yourself late, but if you had not, you very much would have assumed you had idled away too much time. You had to admit that you really had not expected the type of trial you had left behind to be over in so short amount of time. "You're done already?"

"Yup! Usopp and Mr. Borg-man are going to tweak it a little bit, I think!" The teen answered.

You were unsure what that meant, precisely; if the ConducTact had not worked quite right, you sure could not tell a difference in Luffy's person to indicate there had been any sort of problem. Though, maybe it had something to do with his quirk. Regeneration, maybe? "Well, I'm sure Usopp was thrilled it could be used," you reasoned.

That smile before you widened—if such was even possible—and the black-haired boy shook in laughter. "Yeah! He showed me a few of his ideas for the Sports Fest, too! Can't wait to see 'em in action!"

A car pulled up in front of the awning, wipers frantic against the pounding droplets that were continuing to fall even as the vehicle slowed to a halt. You glanced, though did not recognize it; perhaps whoever it was had come for Luffy. "Hey," you started to ask, eyes shifting back toward the smiling figure before you.

Luffy, though, seemed to not hear you. "I hope he makes it through all the events! Kid's face would be priceless, you know?"

Amidst the rain, there was now the hum of a motor as one of the car's windows began to drop open.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went ahead and split the last chapter up into two, since it came to my attention that suddenly chapter three was *really* long! Hahaha. Whoops.
> 
> The next chapter will be new content.

"Luffy!" Ace barked, though it seemed the patter of heavy raindrops dulled the call's reach. Either that, or Luffy was suffering from perpetual selective deafness.

Again.

The young, freckled teen sighed, slamming the heel of his palm to the center of the steering wheel, promptly shadowing the call with a blaring and extended lay of the horn. "C'mon, let's go! The old man isn't gonna be happy if we're late."

Finally got the kid's attention, at least. Still, even from inside the car Ace and Sabo could hear that distinctive laugh that meant the urgency they needed probably really was not there. "Coming, coming." Luffy gave an exuberant wave to his company, thin legs already striding toward the vehicle. "See ya tomorrow, Usopp's friend!"

"Yeah," came the answer, small against the sudden ruckus of the youngest brother opening the car door and clambering inside.

Sabo immediately twisted in his seat, eyeing Luffy as the boy shook water droplets from his dark locks like some kind of lanky Labrador. "You know Gramps hates it when—"

"Hey, Luffy," Ace interrupted, his voice low. It was enough to still the banter, though he did not spare either Sabo or Luffy a look. His dark eyes trained instead outside, a slight furrow muddling his brow as the wipers danced first one direction and then the other before him. "Is your friend walking home?"

"I dunno," Luffy answered, his shoulders following in shrug. "Never met her before today."

That drew Sabo's attention too, and the blond frowned. "But this storm is nasty."

"Tch," Ace clucked, already sliding the car into drive. Lifting his foot from the brake, the car rolled forward, and the window that he had just raised once more began to lower. "Hey!" He called out. When you did not turn, he tried again. "Hey!" This time you paused, squinting against the rain as you turned, the umbrella you held straining against the wind. Still, now that he had gotten your attention, Ace quickly motioned to the back door. "C'mon, get in. We'll give you a ride."

Your eyes widened slightly as you realized just who was speaking to you. You doubted anyone in all of Grand Line High did not know of Ace D. Portgas, one of the two shining stars of the hero track. A flick of your eyes toward the blond at his side said the other shining star was right there with him, too. You forced a swallow, feeling a tingle of nerves dance down your arms as you shook your head, forcing a polite smile to your face. "Oh, that's kind of you but—"

"It's pouring," the blond interrupted. Sabo D. Dragon. You knew the two seniors were brothers despite the difference in their names, though in all the time you had spied them on the television for the sports festivals you had never thought they looked it. Where Ace was dark features and chiseled physique, Sabo seemed a classic sort of handsome—and that scar he bore over his left eye added an air of mystery that his brother did not carry. "I know you were probably taught not to get into a car with strange guys," Sabo offered next, a mischievous glint flashing in his blue eyes as his lips quirked upward in a grin. "So we can always kick Ace out so you're not breaking any rules."

The freckled boy immediately reached out to hit the back of the blond's head, but the laughter that burst from Sabo's lips made it perfectly clear the joke was worth the cost. Ace gave up his assault—for now—and looked back to you with a grin that was made of the sunlight that was missing from the sky. "We wanna be heroes, all right? Can't let a girl walk home in this weather. Sabo's right, though. You shouldn't get into the car with strange men. I promise Sabo can fend for himself, though, so—"

This time, the blond was the one swinging, and as Ace ducked away, you could hear Luffy's chortle all the way through the rain and newest rumble of thunder. When it became clear you were still hesitating, the freckled face senior moved the car up even more, setting you abreast to the back door.

"Listen, we sure would hate to have to stalk you to make sure you got there all right on your own," Sabo offered with a cheeky grin.

"C'mon, Usopp's friend!" Luffy added his own cry, opening the car door and stretching to grab your wrist. You gasped as he tugged, though the surprise at the rubbery lengthening of the teen's limb was enough to morph the sound into a sharp squeak.

You stumbled forward, still held tightly in Luffy's grasp, and plopped unceremoniously onto the back seat. Your face was pale, eyes wide, and you could barely hear Luffy laugh despite his proximity as he stretched by you to close and pick up the umbrella you had released as you plummeted to this leather bench.

"Your arm!" You managed.

"Aw, this? It's my quirk!" Luffy guffawed. "I'm a rubber man." The door shut behind you, and now the drum of the rain was nothing but a staccato rhythm on the car's roof.

"Oh," you managed, trying to sound as if such news was common. Perhaps it should have been; still, maybe it was because you yourself had no quirk to speak of, but every time you came across a new one it was like another moment where your life felt like a comic book.

Though, suddenly it made sense why Usopp wanted Luffy to test the ConducTact.

"So, where do you live?" Ace asked, brown eyes flicking to the rearview as you lifted yours to meet him there.

"Actually, I'm headed to work," you mumbled shyly. Your cheeks were blazing. "I'll be fine if you just get me to Main."

"Oh, what do you do?" Sabo inquired, glancing over his shoulder with a smile as Ace set off.

"I work at the bookstore," you answered, giving the young man a small smile in return as you clicked your seatbelt closed.

"Sounds boring," Luffy declared. "You'll like working at my agency a lot better."

A nervous laugh danced on your lips as you sat rigid and upright, clutching your school bag tightly in your lap so you at least had something to do with your hands. "Actually, I rather like it. But, I'm sure your agency will be great," you assured.

"Ah, I see you've already been scouted for my little brother's schemes," Ace chimed with a grin of his own.

"Yup. Usopp and Usopp's friend are both gonna work for me, so you can't have them," Luffy answered. You, for a moment, stared. His face really was fifty percent teeth when he smiled.

Sabo turned an apologetic look to you, shifting in the seat to spy you better. "I see you've also fallen victim to something else our brother is known for. Tell me, Usopp's friend—what's your name?"

"(Y/N)," you answered.

"So, (Y/N), you're a friend of Usopp's? You in the support track, too?" The blond pressed. His entire demeanor was relaxing, and you could almost feel the knot behind your shoulders beginning to untie.

Well, at least until his second question registered. At that, your face began to turn hot and you dropped your attention to instead peer down at the bag in your hands while you shook your head. "No. I'm actually in the gen-ed track," you explained, and though you attempted to do so with an even tone, there was a meekness in the quality of your voice bred from the sudden pressure your heart was exerting as it battered against your ribcage.

"Really?!" Luffy exclaimed, his face clearly contorted in surprise. "Huh. I thought you said you were classmates."

"Ah, no. Clubmates," you corrected, though you could not bring yourself to speak any further, and your lips wrung nervously as you forced your eyes out the window to watch the empty, silver-limned roads as Ace carried on toward Main Street through the rolling rain.

"Really? Didn't know that guy was in any clubs!" The freckle-faced teen interjected with a blithe chuckle. "Which one're you in?"

You felt your heart still, and the heat of your cheeks grew. "Twenty Percent," you answered quietly. Outside, the grey sky roiled, the winds turning the raindrops into stinging needles as they fell against the car in droves trying to escape the ricochet of hot, white flashes that darted in serpentine patterns overhead. Inside, you felt like your chest was in much the same state.

Ace frowned, flicking his eyes back to the rearview once more. "What?"

You were not sure if it was because he did not know what you had said or if it was because he did that made him scrunch his face that way, but you cleared your throat to rid it of its sudden tightness and tried again. "Twenty Percent. It's the name of the club. It's for...quirkless people."

"Whaaaat?" Luffy's exaggerated and surprised exclamation came at once, his eyes wide enough that you wondered if they could roll free from his sockets as easily as his arm stretched. If they did, his jaw just might catch them; it was gaping so much he looked like a fish tossed up on a dock. "You're quirkless?!"

"Y-yeah," you managed.

You wished you had a quirk at that moment; maybe one to help you disappear. If the car had not been moving, you might have tried to make a break for it. Unfortunately, Ace had not hit a single red light yet.

"Whooooo, that's so cool!" Luffy declared with a hoot, the sound slowly morphing to pleased laughter.

"What?" You gasped, every muscle in your body growing tight as you snapped your head up and looked toward the lanky, rubber-teen in disbelief. You had heard many reactions over the years concerning your lack of special ability, and never once had anyone uttered the word 'cool'.

"I didn't think there were any of you left!" Luffy pressed, his voice still raised and beaming with excitement.

"U-um," you started, brow furrowing. You were not precisely offended, though certainly confused. As it turned, you were not the only one.

"Really, Luffy?" Ace interjected, quirking an eyebrow up in what seemed to be a mix of disbelief and question. "You've known Usopp how long, again?"

That sent another wave of shock through the lanky teen's system and his mouth dropped open wider. "Usopp's quirkless too?!" He shouted, the sound loud enough that the rest of you flinched as it echoed off the windows in a nauseating crescendo.

"Sorry about Luffy, (Y/N)," Sabo offered, a polite smile on his lips. "He's—"

"An actual dumbass," Ace finished. He flicked his dark eyes to you through the rearview once more, a faint glimmer of a smile evident in them even though you could not properly see his face to be sure. "I've heard of Twenty Percent, actually," he remarked. "I think it's pretty cool that a bunch of people with similar backgrounds meet up like that."

The tension began to ebb from your body, and slowly you began to smile in reply, a pink color covering your cheeks in a mix of glee and embarrassment. "Yeah," you answered. "I mean, there aren't a bunch of us around. I remember feeling like the only person in the world who was like me when I was little, so when my teacher told me about the group it changed my life." Your voice, gently sweeping with a twinge of romanticism, tapered off for a moment as a slew of fond memories flooded you. However, the dreamlike shine to your eye was soon replaced with fluster as you realized how heavy such a conversation sounded. It was not like these three were going to understand what it was like to be boring and weak; they were the cream of the Grand Line crop after all. You cleared your throat, opting to force a nervous laugh.

"Is it fun? I wanna go," Luffy declared with a wide grin.

"...What?" You found yourself asking for the second time in a short period.

Ace clucked his tongue, though it was the blond of the three who spoke. "You can't, Luffy," he answered simply.

It was a tone you recognized as one to be used on a child, and as Luffy's face scrunched into a petulant frown, you began to wonder if that was not an apt approach. "Why not?" The youngest brother whined.

"You have a quirk, dumbass," Ace answered.

"So? I won't use it there," came the retort, his brown eyes flicking to you.

"That's...not really the point," Sabo tried. His blue eyes followed his brother's, settling on you with a slight pinch wrinkling over his nose. You could read enough of his expression to know he was concerned for how you were taking all this, and the whole situation seemed so surreal, so absurd, that you found yourself laughing.

A person with a hero-level quirk wanting to hang out with a bunch of mundane, quirkless people? It was almost like a set up for a cruel joke at your expense. Still, if there was one thing you thought you had figured out in the handful of words you had shared with Luffy so far, it was that you were pretty sure his heart was in the right place. His classmates had called him an idiot, but what you saw in him yourself was closer to childlike wonder.

"You know," you finally managed to eke out between your laughs. "It's not like we do anything super exciting. Next meeting it's a picnic and canoe rental at Sabaody—"

"You mean there'll be food?" Luffy's brown eyes were sparkling like stars.

"Well, yeah," you answered. That was what a picnic implied after all.

Sabo laughed, tossing a look over his shoulder toward you. "Well, now you've done it. Luffy will do just about anything for food!" His lips pulled into a smirk, and he motioned with a nod of his head toward the driver. "Ace, too."

"Tch," Ace clucked, reaching a hand to shove his brother from the driver's seat. "You eat just as much as the rest of us, you know."

"So I can come right?! When're you doing it?" Luffy's bright eyes turned to you.

"Next Saturday," you answered. "I'll...get you the details." In truth, the words had come really before you had made up your mind to properly extend the invitation. Technically there was no rule that said someone with a quirk could not attend, but you wondered if there had ever been a precedent for it. There had not been since you were going, at least.

Still, that seemed enough to appease the rubber-quirked teen, and he laughed, sinking back into his seat with a large, boyish grin. "Can't wait!"

Chatter filtered more comfortably in the car after that, and it did not take long before Ace was pulling to a stop in front of a storefront on Main Street. The sidewalks looked empty, though the light from inside was golden and bright, spilling in enticing rays over the soaked pavement. The sign above the door, Book and Cranny, was nearly unreadable through the downpour since it was not backlit, but the wide windows of books relayed the shop's purpose well enough. "This it?" Ace inquired, smiling over his shoulder toward you.

You nodded, smiling. "It is. Thank you very much!"

"Ah, don't worry about it," he assured. "Hopefully it stops raining by the time you're off."

"Hopefully!" you parroted back with a laugh, gathering your things in preparation to quickly make your way from the dry car interior to the brick and mortar those few strides away.

"See ya tomorrow!" Luffy added with a grin himself.

"R-right," you answered. And without waiting a single moment more, you pushed your way from the car, and shot off toward the front door. As you passed inside, you could hear Ace sliding the car back into drive to head off down the road once more, and you could not stop the small, thankful smile that seemed to bubble up to rest upon your face; thanks to Luffy and his brothers, you had made it to work in record time, dry and ready to face the air-conditioning within. But, maybe, the best part was the lingering warmth that settled in your chest as you thought about the kind smiles you had shared with the three on the ride over.

If all hero track students were like that, you did not know why you had been so afraid to meet them.


	5. Chapter 5

A bell sang over your head as a herald of your arrival, and you wiped your damp shoes against the mat at the storefront to avoid tracking water into the store. You felt more than saw the flutter of movement beyond the bookshelves as a figure made its way from the labyrinth of stocked materials to poke a feminine, silver-white head around the corner.

“(Y/N)!” The woman's blue eyes flicked to the watch on her wrist, her surprise melting into a far less panicked and more curious version of itself as she read the hands upon the clock face. “You’re here early!”

“Hi, Olvia,” you greeted, finally content with the dryness of your soles and stepping from the front door. The perfume of the books, both new and used, clung to the air in a homey way, and you sighed in content as the print and pages filled your lungs to bursting. “I caught a ride today.”

The woman’s pale eyes glimmered pleasantly, almost as if she were the hearth that the grey afternoon needed. “Good! I was worried I’d need to send a boat for you, given the weather.” While she did not outright wink, the playful tone was mirrored by the grin that stretched her lips. “Well, why not clock in a bit early, then? I got a new shipment in the back that I need to check, so you can have the front.” A silky smile rested on the woman’s face, her pale, icy eyes taking on a kind sheen.

“Sure thing! Let me just drop off my stuff,” you called, perhaps a shade too enthusiastic. Who were you to deny a few extra dollars on your paycheck? This month, you knew you could use it. Besides, Book and Cranny was one of your favorite places in all of the city, and your manager, Olvia Nico, one of your favorite people.

“Nah, keep it at the counter,” Olvia interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand, turning on her heel to make way toward the stockroom. The fun, brightly colored curtain that marked its entrance was hanging half open already. “It’s been slow today, so you can probably work on your homework once you get the books on the counter there shelved.”

“All right,” you trilled excitedly, swinging your steps to head for the counter instead. The stack of books awaiting re-shelving was only about ten or so thick, so you assumed it would not take you too long before you were bunkering down with your math workbook and calculator.

“Call me if you need me,” Olvia added. And with that she disappeared into the stockroom, and you dropped your backpack off behind the counter and reached for the first few books to put away.

* * *

It was about an hour or two into your shift; the rain outside had begun to finally ebb, though the haze outside was grey yet and its assault had not completely cleared. You had long finished the task of finding the homes for the ten stray books your manager had given you, and now you were bunkered down upon the stool behind the register attempting to piece through your notes to finish your math assignment. It was not that you were doing terribly at the algebra, really, but you certainly found yourself imagining that you would feel better if you asked Usopp to check what you had done over the next day. Math seemed to come to him as easy as breathing.

That was when the door pressed open, the sounding of the small bell somewhat muffled by the rain’s quick rhythm yet audible enough, and it drew your eyes up and away from your calculator. “Welcome to Book and Cranny!” You immediately began to greet, though the moment your eyes spied the two figures pushing their way inside your enthusiasm waned.

You had never seen a woman so tall before, and the long, thin lines of her limbs looked almost serpentine. She wore a powdery, pale blue dress that matched the color of her long, wavy hair, and the pink scarf about her hips acted as a belt to match the two dangling hearts that hanged from her choker. But it was the oversized hat and the cigarette dangling from her pouting lips that _really_ struck you as strange. It was pouring—the outfit itself looked inconvenient what with the wide-brimmed hat, and the fact that she was willing to smoke indoors was another matter entirely.

At her side was a man that kept even that woman in his shadow; his hair was purple, though it in no way softened his appearance. His eyes were somewhat crazed, flicking over the interior of the store with what looked to be a carnal desire for trouble; maybe it was the dark, jagged scar that claimed the left half of his face that made you think so.

“I’m terribly sorry, but the building doesn’t allow smoking inside,” you tried, though you were faintly aware that your smile looked somehow feeble.

“Is that so?” The male drawled, though the stretch of his smile appeared more maniacal than remorseful. “Well, that’ll be one of the first things we change.”

“Cracker,” the blue-haired woman said, a disapproving look casting over the small space. “This place doesn’t even have a café.”

You supposed it was relatively common now to cozy up in a shop with a hot cup of coffee, and with the weather outside being as poor as it was, you could see the appeal. “There’s a coffee shop a few stores down,” you chimed. “They also have the best homemade scones! I think their flavor of the week is dried plum and cinnamon.”

“Mama should definitely like that,” the man declared.

He said ‘ _Mama’_ like it would be the same for both of them, though you did not see much family resemblance between the two of them. Still, you had just gotten out of a car that afternoon with brothers who also did not look related, and family sometimes spread beyond blood ties, so maybe it was not overtly strange.

“Hmm,” the blue haired woman hummed in agreement, sliding her eyes to you. From beneath the wide brim of her hat, her cold gaze felt somehow corporeal on its own, the sensation of her attention like knives suddenly danced along your skin. “Are you the owner of this dump?” She inquired.

A part of you felt a thread of indignation; this bookstore was not a grand chain, but Olvia had painstakingly and lovingly kept this place running year after year, and what it lacked in size it made up for in atmosphere and content. To call it a dump was not only wrong, but needless. “No, I’m not. I work here, but that’s it,” you answered. Your cordial tones slipped somewhat with your ruffled mood, and as if they were beasts tracking such a thing by scent, both Cracker and this blue-haired woman smirked. You schooled your face to remain as steady as you could manage; if they did not like the store, they could just leave and go pick up the scones they wanted, right?

“Actually, the owner would be me,” Olvia’s words came. You turned, finding your manager stood beneath the parted, vibrant curtain, a stern frown upon her face. “(Y/N),” she called to you, though her eyes did not leave the two figures at the front of the store. “I’ve got the boxes half undone in the back. Could you finish that up for me while I speak with our guests?”

You knew you had to go; there was no feasible excuse you could come up with to defy her and stay where you were. Still, you could not shake the feeling that something was off about this. “Yes, ma’am,” you murmured, already moving toward the back. “When I’m done, do you want me to go ahead and flip the stock out, then?” You inquired.

Olvia’s eyes pulled from Cracker and his sister to settle on you, and your lungs felt tight. Given the times, it seemed that part of every new-hire’s job training no matter the job came with a quick rundown of code phrases. Seeing as how Book and Cranny had a presence on one of the most high-trafficked streets in Grand Line, it was no surprise to you that your manager had come up with something for use there as well. _Flipping the stock_.

 _“Do you want me to go ahead and call the police?”_ Would have been a better translation.

“Good question,” your manager hummed. “Let me see how our used books are looking before I make that call.” She found a smile for you and set a hand on your shoulder in a somewhat motherly pat before turning back toward the two guests, and you slipped into the back behind the curtain, drawing it closed.

For a moment you hesitated, lingering by the hanging fabric as you listened. Olvia had said there was no need for the authorities right now, perhaps, but something in your gut twisted in nervousness regardless. Maybe being quirkless had made you paranoid, you reasoned. Seeing danger in any strange situation, knowing you had nothing extra to rely on beyond your own physical limits if push came to shove.

Though, a softer, concerned voice whispered that _maybe_ it was not paranoia, and that you were actually simply more attuned to sensing danger than people who hosted quirks they relied on.

It did not matter; you could not stand by the door, regardless. Olvia was talking to the siblings now, and if you could hear them, they could hear you. With a small sigh, you stepped forward, seeing the spot Olvia had been working at just a moment before. The order list was balanced on the wing of a large, cardboard box, a pen before it. First step was to go through the shipments and make sure everything was sent the way it was ordered.

You made just enough noise to make a show of following your manager’s orders, though you quieted your work for moments at a time to try and parse out, what, precisely, was going on out front.

“What do you mean, _‘my new contract’_?” Your manager inquired at one point. “My leasing agreement is signed for the year already, and that’s a discussion between myself and Mr.—”

“Your current lease was transferred the minute Mama got the deed to this building,” Cracker interrupted.

“We’ve been going over the tenants to make sure they’ll make her happy. Unfortunately for you, Mama won’t see much use for a shabby place like this,” the female declared. “You bring in the least amount of revenue of anyone here, and after going over the numbers it seems like we might double the café’s business by knocking out that wall there and extending seating.”

“But Mama isn’t in the habit of being cruel,” Cracker sneered; you could see in your mind’s eye the coil of his lips as that mad smile widened. “So we’d like you to join her for a luncheon to make the case for why you deserve to stay. The rest of the tenants will be there, too.”

You could not see Olvia’s face either, but you could imagine the fiery glint to her eyes. “And when, pray tell, is this luncheon?”

“The end of the month,” Cracker said. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

The bell over the door rang once more, most likely signaling the two guests’ leave, and you slowly rose to your feet once more and trekked to the curtain. You pulled it aside just enough to peek an eye through; you could see Olvia, glaring defiantly at the front door, her body thrumming. “Is everything all right?” You inquired quietly.

It seemed your words were like some sort of spell, or perhaps a fix for the one she felt she was under. The white-haired woman startled, turning as if she had forgotten you were there. Still, she drew a smile to her lips regardless. “Yes,” she assured. “…Just meeting the new landlords.”

You tried to offer her a small smile in return, to play along with the façade, but it did not quite work. The rest of your shift could have passed for normal, if it were not for the suffocating weight of a cloud hanging over both of your hearts.

* * *

Friday morning dawned, your routine the same as it was every other day. Quiet steps in the dark, collecting a meager breakfast, gathering your things. You needed to stop by the bank on the way to or from school; it was paycheck day, and the overdue rent was looming like a lion at your shoulder. You should have enough; you had been careful with your spending, knowing that the late fee was going to be tacked on top. When your phone buzzed, its light arcing from its place on the floor by your backpack, you abandoned your thoughts for the moment in favor of checking your screen. It was a text from Usopp. 

Fleetingly you wondered if this early start had anything to do with the experiment yesterday, though you thought better than of asking over text. A quick, _‘Okay! See you there!’_ blipped back from your end, and you readjusted your attention back to preparing for the day. Still, there was a sliver of disappointment in your gut at the thought of having to wait until lunch to see your friend face to face.

After what happened the day before, there was a lot you wanted to talk about.

* * *

It was lunchtime when you found yourself leaning against the side of the cafeteria, watching students make their way inside. It had been a few minutes since the bell had released everyone for their lunch period, but even though it seemed like half the school was already sitting among the tables or waiting in line to get their meal, you still had not spotted the one long nose you were looking for.

“(Y/N)!” You heard his voice before you saw his bright eyes and dark curls, taking it as prompt enough to kick yourself from the wall. “Sorry, I was elbows deep in upgrades!”

You smiled to him. “No worries! The ConducTact?” You questioned, reaching to tug on the doors to the cafeteria and swing them open. The sound beyond the doors swelled as you passed inside, the various calls and laughs volleying over and between tables full of students. It was, frankly, overwhelming, which was why Usopp, Kaya, and yourself often opted to eat out in the courtyard.

“You know it,” Usopp answered, grinning in your direction. “After Luffy tried it out yesterday, I had some things to work on.”

“Did it work?” You found yourself asking.

Usopp scoffed in playful indignation, turning his nose upward. “Do you dare doubt the great Usopp?” He inquired.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Even the great Usopp might need to make adjustments,” you larked.

That brought his grin back and he shrugged as he chuckled. “It worked,” he admitted, though the tone he used was not full of accomplishment like you might have expected, so you waited for him to continue. “It definitely soaked up all the electrical energy we shoved at Luffy that it could, but…well, it needs more capacity. And maybe an overload safety measure.”

Your eyes widened, and your eyebrows crawled up to your hairline. “Usopp, did it _explode_?”

“No! Of course not!” He huffed, a shade too quickly, as far as you were concerned. Your eyes trained on him yet, though, and soon he was fidgeting beneath your gaze. “Okay, it exploded a little. Luffy was fine, though!”

Well, you knew that much, though you assumed Usopp did not know you did. “Yeah, an overload feature is probably smart,” you finally agreed in a hum.

“I didn’t pack a lunch today, so I’m going to hop in line real quick—need anything?” Your friend inquired.

You shook your head, holding up a Ziploc bag like a flag. “I’m set,” you explained. "I'll wait for you by the door?"

Usopp eyed the bread and meat with a bit of a downturned lip, though before you could jest that he was not the one who had to eat it, he turned his dark eyes to you. “If you wait in line with me, I’ll get you a drink. How does that sound?”

“Fine, fine,” you said. “I get paid today, so I promise my lunch won’t be as sorry Monday.” Your friend smiled, motioning for you to follow him, and you fell in step beside him comfortably. “Oh! Speaking of work,” you chirped. “The weirdest thing happened yesterday. I guess someone new bought out the strip on Main Street, but it kind of sounds like they want to shut down the store.”

Usopp’s brow furrowed. “What? Why? Book and Cranny is the best bookshop _in_ Grand Line!”

“I guess they don’t think so,” you mumbled with a shrug. Still, as you huffed out a sigh through your lips, reaching and taking hold of that promised drink from the line of bottled beverages, you shuddered. “The new landlady sent some people by to talk to Olvia. They called her _‘Mama’_ , but honestly, I’m not sure if they’re related or if it’s like a mob thing. They gave off seriously weird vibes.”

“Well, you’d have to be a villain to want to shut down that place,” Usopp declared with a harrumph, digging into his pocket to produce his wallet to pay. “I wonder why the owner sold, though—didn’t he _just_ buy the place last year?”

You nodded. Rent had gone up a little bit as he tried to increase his profits; it had led to a couple fewer hours for you each week, which had been a nightmare for a while until you adjusted. Still, he had put no work _into_ the building, so you could not fathom that he had somehow managed to flip it for a profit.

You both gathered your things, heading away from the lunch line and toward the doors, both of you seemingly caught by the pull of habit to find the courtyard. “They…kinda sounded like they were threatening Olvia, too. Apparently the new landlady—” You began in a low tone, brow furrowed in concern, before you were cut off.

“Usopp! Usopp’s friend!” A voice, brilliant and loud, shot over the lunchroom. Both of you froze, eyes snapping to the source of the disturbance. It was a familiar black-haired boy with a crescent shaped scar. “There’re seats over here!” Luffy called, waving emphatically from his spot. “Come eat with us!”

A hand reached out, batting the young teen on the head with a fist before its owner turned his attention and that summer smile toward you. “Dammit, Luffy. She has a name. (Y/N)!”

And that was all it took for the entire cafeteria to turn far too many eyes to spy you. “Since when do you know Fire Fist Ace?” Usopp inquired lowly, brow raised.

“Ah…he, Sabo, and Luffy sorta gave me a ride to work yesterday during the storm,” you answered, settling your eyes to your friend’s face, finding it a welcome escape from the drilling, burning eyes of half the school that now suddenly seemed to swarm you, not to mention the warm, admittedly handsome grin the freckled senior had cast your way.

“Can’t believe you left that detail out!” Usopp let out a quick laugh. “And now one of the Princes of Grand Line High knows your name. You’ve made more enemies in three seconds than some pro heroes do in their entire careers, you know,” he observed. On the other side of the room, Luffy was still calling, though now the others around him were begging him to quiet down. “C’mon. He’ll scream until we sit down, so now that we’ve been seen, we better go.”

You scoffed, attempting to roll your eyes and distract your friend from the nervous heat that was pooling on your cheeks. “It’s nothing like that,” you assured him. Well, it was _maybe_ like that a little; Ace did know your name. Sabo too, if you were keeping tallies. Still, the thought that you were anything special after one ride to Main Street was absurd. Besides, the girls in the senior hero track were obviously going to be more their style! After all, one of their classmates was Hancock Boa. She was hands down the most beautiful girl _at_ Grand Line High, and with skill enough to keep the title of _‘_ Empress’, imagining that anyone would even think Ace would bother looking your direction was laughable.

And it became apparent as you walked that you were not the only one to find the idea preposterous.

“Isn’t she one of the gen-eds?” One of the more piqued whispers reached your ears.

You tried to ignore the eyes and the whispers, but it would have been a lie to say it was easy. Crossing the cafeteria took far longer than it should have—or, rather, it _felt_ like it did. It gave you plenty of time to note the few familiar faces around the already packed lunch table, and just where the two empty seats were. The blond and green-haired teens from 1-A were there, though so were a few faces you did not recognize from your brief visit. One was a slim girl, fiery locks as vivacious as the gleam in her eyes, and beside her was…

Well, it kind of reminded you of a reindeer, but the fact it was wearing a pink hat, was speaking fluently in words you could understand, and was using cutlery _in his hooves_ made you decide it was some kind of mutation-quirk instead.

The open chairs, though, were across from Ace and Sabo, their grins lifting to greet you and Usopp as you hesitantly approached.

“Ah! The angel of the support track!” Sanji exclaimed as he saw you, and you were fairly certain the only thing preventing him from leaping up to take your hand the same way as he had last time was the decisive clamp of the green-haired student’s grip upon his shoulder forcing him back down.

“Give it a rest, Sanji,” the orange-haired girl sighed, rolling her eyes.

“But (Y/N) isn’t in the support track,” Luffy said, a frown hanging on his lips.

Your face tinged rose, and you laughed somewhat as the rest of the 1-A eyes swung to you. “Sorry to disappoint,” you offered nervously, though you could not bear to make overt eye contact for too long, and soon dropped your eyes to the bottle you grasped in your hands instead. You could tell Usopp was watching you, maybe trying to wrack his brain for an excuse for you both to leave; maybe you should help. “Usopp,” you started, wondering if a polite, _‘we shouldn’t keep Kaya waiting’_ would be enough.

She was out today, but you doubted the hero track students even knew who she was.

Still, before you could muster the words, Sanji was yelling. “Disappointed?” Sanji hummed. “No, mademoiselle. I could never be disappointed in you,” he assured in tones that bordered sultry. Now you were flushing from a different type of nervousness. Still, Sanji’s cool and collected exterior soon faded as he whipped to look at the green-haired boy next to him. “I _told_ you that she was too good to be an angel of the support track, you damn mosshead! Her hands are too soft!”

“Oi,” the mosshead countered, frowning as he, too, rose to fight. “How the hell was I supposed to know? Not like I go around creepily grabbing women’s hands!”

“Um,” you started to try and interject, eyes flicking over the cafeteria and noting the increased attention still cast in your direction, but you heard the sound of someone clicking their tongue.

“This actually happens all the time,” someone said to you. It took you a moment to decipher it was Sabo, the blond smiling up at you with his bright eyes. “Do you guys want to sit?”

“And don’t worry about Sanji,” Ace added with a small snort. “He’s all talk. If he happened to try something you didn’t like, though, there’s a whole table here who’d put him back in line.”

Usopp turned to you, the surreptitious question in his eyes for you alone. A thread of relief and thankfulness snaked from your chest, and you offered him a quick, small smile to show both your appreciation, and your intention. “Sure, we can join you,” you conceded. And that was how you found yourself, your curly-haired friend in tow, falling into a seat at the most boisterous table in the lunchroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in getting this one up! =] I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Also, I know this platform doesn't have a great way to contact me if you would like to chat about the story or just general One Piece stuff, but find me on instagram (@hobbitess) and I am happy to talk there. =]


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter has a villain attack and the allusion of blood and mass chaos. If you are easily bothered by violence, this will likely be uncomfortable.

Lunch passed in what you honestly could say was the most overwhelming blur you had experienced in your lifetime. Between the lively chatter, and the sea of new faces, it felt more like you had been dropped into a fraternity than a lunch crew. It started with Luffy announcing you and Usopp to the whole table like he had _not_ just shouted out your names to the whole cafeteria, and quickly spiraled into a warm type of mayhem when he added, “They’re gonna be part of my agency, too!”

Usopp gave a laugh, crossing his arms as he lifted his nose. “Now, I understand why you’d _want_ me, Luffy—I mean, I _am_ the master of the workshop! But technically I’ve never agreed to—” His words were cut off, however, when nobody aside from you seemed to be listening.

Sanji’s face seemed to light up, and he leaned forward resting his elbow on the table as he cupped his chin in his hand as he eyed you in particular. “I must say, if a beauty like _you_ is going to be working there,” he began to near purr with what you really could only describe as the living equivalent to those cartoon heart eyes, when his words were cut off by two fists striking his ribs on either side.

“Don’t push your luck,” the orange-haired girl huffed before smiling to you. “I’m Nami. If you ask Luffy, this whole _table_ is going to be part of his agency,” she winked.

You laughed, wondering if Nami, too, had been roped into employment in the same manner as you had. “Everyone, huh? Are you going to be a hero too, or…?”

Nami lifted her lip in disdain for a moment. “No,” she assured quickly, as if the very thought were offensive. “ _I_ ’m going to be the primary agent.”

“Nami’s in the business track,” Usopp added, his voice blithe and mood apparently recovered from being ignored.

“Not that I’d let Nami do any hero work,” Sanji said, that velvety drawl back in full force now that his breath was recovered. “The thought of any villain laying their hands on her—”

“Sanji, Zoro, and Chopper are going to be the heroes. Oh, and Law, too,” Luffy assured.

You recognized three out of four of those names from your visit to 1-A, at least, so it was a modicum of safety in this onslaught of new information. “Is Chopper in your class, also?” You asked.

“Haha, nah,” Luffy dismissed with a hearty laugh, motioning to the small reindeer student you had noted upon your arrival. “He’s in class 1-B, but I _wish_ he was with us! Then all of my crew would be training together!”

“We still _do_ train together,” Chopper answered, a smile that vaguely reminded you of a plush creature stretching his lips. Or was it more appropriate to say jowls in this case? “I’m fine being in 1-B. Doctor Kureha is one of the best rescue heroes in history, so I’m learning form the best! Her work in crisis situations is phenomenal.”

“Oh, is that what you want to specialize in?” You inquired.

“Yup!” Chopper answered. “I thought about just being a doctor instead, but if I get a hero’s license, I can go to the patient when things are bad instead of having to wait for them to come to me.”

“And Chopper’s _really_ strong,” Luffy added with a bright guffaw.

You could hardly imagine someone so small being so mighty—even his arms and legs seemed somehow…thin—but if Luffy thought Chopper was a force to be reckoned with even with the rubber-quirked teen’s rumored prowess, then you were inclined to believe him. “I’ll look forward to seeing the video of you at the Sports Festival, then!” You offered.

If you had not known any better, you would have sworn that Chopper’s cheek-fur turned color to match his pink hat. “Whaaaat? You don’t have to do that, silly. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything!” The sheepish, gleeful grin on his face, though, made you wonder if he actually _did_ think it was.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Here,” Luffy dug into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, tossing it your direction. “Put your name and number in here! That way you can send me the information about next weekend!”

Usopp gave you a strange look, but you were too busy trying to calm your rampant heart rate from imagining the phone slipping through your fingers and shattering to notice it. You could not even manage to gather your words, so you gave Luffy a small smile and nodded, turning your attention to his phone—which was covered in grease, it seemed—to begin doing just that.

“Don’t throw it, dumbass,” Ace grunted.

“But _you_ throw your phone, too!” Luffy countered.

Sabo leaned over the table, sliding his phone toward you as well. “Luffy probably won’t remember to check his messages,” he explained with a long-suffering smile that said this had been a problem before. “Go ahead and put your information in my phone too, since likely I’ll have to get him there anyway.”

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, sure thing.”

So perhaps the lunch hour was as near to a tornado as it could have been, but you could not deny that when you rose from the table at the end of the lunch hour to finish out the rest of your day, you felt better than you had in a long while; you were ready to face the last classes of your day as well as your errands on the way home with renewed spirits vigor, a faint smile on your lips.

* * *

_Maybe_ you had overdone it.

There was static in your fingers, as if losing blood circulation to your extremities was alike to mistuning a radio frequency, though no matter how you shifted the grocery bag around, the result seemed much the same. All you had _meant_ to do was pick up enough food to get you and your father through the rest of the weekend, but those buy one get one sales had increased your load more than you had originally intended. And, right then, home seemed too far away.

At least you could finally see the overpass—that meant you were getting closer, at any rate. 

Then, all you had to do was stop by the landlord’s place and make sure you handed him the envelope with the rent and late fee you had withdrawn before you got these bags out of your hands for good. It was enough of a beacon to keep your feet moving despite the fact you felt like an overburdened turtle.

At least it was not raining today.

“H-help! Someone! Any…anyone!”

The cry was faceless to you, for the street was too busy with foot traffic to warrant any direct line of sight. Still the sound of it immediately made you frown, and your steps began to falter. You were not the only one, either; around you a few others eyed the area ahead uneasily, a low murmur sweeping through the street. “What is it, a mugging?” Someone inquired.

“I dunno, can’t see much of anything from here,” another answered, craning their neck.

Your feet slowed to a halt, the patter of your heart in your chest a shade erratic. The down side, of course, to living in a world that was like a comic book was that, well, it was _like a comic book_. The term _‘villain’_ no longer brought to mind an exaggerated caricature of a man in a black cloak, a nefarious grin, and that _muahaha_ laugh; instead it was the term that brought to mind the faces of troublemakers in your own city.

“Don’t stop in the middle of the damn sidewalk,” someone growled to you as they shouldered by, undeterred, it seemed, by any of the noise ahead.

“Sorry,” you murmured, brow furrowed. 

“Help! Hel—hnnng,” The call was rising again, that frantic, deep raspy timbre descending into what sounded like a groan of pain, and that in turn began to die away and turn to unintelligible babble. Was it because the issue was being dealt with? Or was something else going on? From where you were, you could not say.

The throb of your fingers pleaded with you to start moving for home once more, and after a bit of thought you decided to comply. You were exhausted, and dinner and homework were still waiting for you when you got home. If others were still heading down the road, if nobody _else_ began to scream, maybe…

Step by step, you moved forward, the seconds ticking by without further issue making you feel bolder in your choice; heroes patrolled this area regularly enough. It was the lip of some of the rougher parts of town, and the shops had weathered enough robberies to essentially get this added to a regular beat.

However, you had barely taken a handful of strides when the commotion before you began to rise, the sound of a pained, violent scream sounding ahead.

You had never heard _anything_ like that before, except in movies. Movies with…bad endings…

“Oh my god! Run! Go,” a new voice was shrieking.

You frowned, snapping your eyes ahead to see what, precisely, the problem was as the air froze in your lungs, though all you could make out was a steadily growing swarm of bodies beginning to rush your direction like a stampede. “What’s—?” You started to ask someone as they shoved by, though you never got the chance to finish the question.

Your eardrums throbbed as a barrage like a cannonade echoed over the street ahead of you. There was a sharper sound at its heels, like the grind of concrete, or like a break in the city’s bones. At first there was screaming, though as you turned your eyes toward where you felt the source had been, the sound seemed to shrink, swallowed by a strange purple light that carried the heat of a furnace.

“Outta my way!” Someone declared, shoving you aside. You stumbled, gasping a cry as you sought to reclaim the bag that was now slipping through your numb fingers, but as you dove for the handles, more bodies pushed their way by, tossing you about like a leaf caught in rapids.

The heat was getting hotter, which probably meant that weird purple light was not so far away anymore. A glance over your shoulder showed you were indeed correct. Never mind the groceries, you told yourself. You had to get out of the way.

“Hurry!” A voice screeched near your ear, and with the tilt your body had found as it bounced helpless between the crowd’s strength, you stood no chance of holding your ground when they trampled into you like a battering ram. The air from your lungs was forced free in a shriek of your own, and your hands waved in an effort to find something to grip to; maybe the weird warm light was going to be dangerous, but your mind suddenly could only picture becoming a broken, bloody, and bruised pancake if you actually hit the ground with all those feet coming your way.

You gasped, closing your eyes as you began to succumb to gravity’s pull—and _that_ was when that uncomfortable heat and that strange glow of purple haze finally reached you.

Was this a villain’s quirk?

You wanted to close your eyes, but suddenly it seemed you could not control your own body. It was like you were floating, suspended, or frozen without the help of ice. 

Why were you not falling?

No, that was not it. You absolutely _were_ falling, but it was like it was in slow motion—or something. The yelp you had tried to express as you had begun your tumble lingered on your lips, trying to burst forth louder than the driveling, warped hum that actually managed to eke from your throat, and your eyes seemed fixated on the approaching concrete of the sidewalk. And, as if that was not enough of an issue to deal with, your grocery bag was ripping, too, secured to your hand by a mere single finger looped through one of the handles. If your tomatoes and onions got trampled, you were not going to have enough money to replace them.

They seemed to be moving slow, too.

What was likely minutes felt like hours; the mutated sound of the street pressing in from all around you buzzed like a thousand cicadas, and the heat began to prickle against your skin and draw beads of sweat to begin to rise, and then to lightly blister. You wondered how many people around you had been trapped by this weird light, too, and if they were as frightened as you felt.

That was when you found yourself no longer alone.

A hand hooked across the front of your shoulders as if to cradle or catch you, and what you could see of the muscles straining led you to believe whomever this was, they were tugging on you. “Shit, what kind of quirk is this?!” A voice asked, the sound close as if they were near your ear; you would have frowned if you had control over your faculties enough. It sounded familiar, though if you could not frown, there was certainly no way you would be able to turn your head to see why.

Then, all at once, everything you could not do, you suddenly could. The shriek lifted from your lips before dying in the heated air, and the arm below your shoulders tightened and lifted. The ground grew no closer, and instead you felt yourself hoisted up, safely settled on your feet. Your breath felt ragged, and it took a moment for you to school your eyes into looking at whomever had grabbed you.

“Phoenix, I think it’s wearing off—(Y/N)! Thought I recognized that jacket. You good?” That flash of smile was friendly, warm like summertime. Freckles swam before your eyes, the soil-brown jewels nestled above them upon you, professional and cool enough that you felt a sigh rising in your chest.

Ace. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” You managed, your voice coming in a breathless, hoarse tone. It was not that you had _wanted_ to scream for the whole time you felt as if you were frozen, but it had been impossible to command your body to stop, either. A trickle of unease was budding in your chest, and you blinked and began to try and look around. “What’s—?”

“Hey, do me a favor, all right? Deep breaths.” Ace reached, touching a warm hand to your cheek and applying enough pressure to gently force you to look back to him.

“Shit, and that overpass is about to unlock next,” another voice volleyed back in a concerned grumble. “C’mon, Fire Fist. Look alive! We need to evacuate as many people as we can before that falls.”

The overpass was falling? You felt a jolt like an electric cattle prod leap through your limbs, and the well of panic you could feel in your chest began to rise rapidly.

Ace gave someone behind you a nod in acknowledgement before he steadied you, a warm hand pressing against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine,” Ace promised. “Just head back down the way we came as quickly as you can, and don’t look back,” he offered with a nod of his head back toward the grocery store—and away from your home—before sprinting off.

How bad was it if he did not want you to look?

Still, your galloping heart rate was enough that you did not feel as if you could defy his order, and you reasoned you would be little help if you decided to linger. You were not a hero hopeful, after all. You did not let yourself think beyond that; you took off, following Fire Fist’s instructions, only pausing to help others climb to their feet to do the same.

It was not until the very ground felt like it was shaking that you gasped and wheeled to look back once more; by the time you had turned, all you could see was a cloud of greyish-white dust rising into the air, the rumble of the fallen overpass the only thing muffling the screams of terror.

“Hey, we gotta go, missy,” the man you had been helping to rise grunted gently, giving you a firm push to start you moving once more. 

As your feet forced their steps, as you fled like a hare from a wolf pack, you could hear that second voice again, the one that had been talking to Ace, calling out, presumably on some sort of communication device. “This is Phoenix requesting airlifts! I repeat, I need a team of emergency vehicles dispatched to my location. Do you copy?”

And behind you, though you dared not look again, you knew without a doubt far more than your trampled tomatoes were making the street run red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this like six times--so I hope it is all right. 
> 
> As a side note, today is Franky's birthday, so I hope everyone had a SUUUUUUUPER day! =D


End file.
